


Confused

by Yoshiaki



Series: Their kinda love is ageless [16]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Amnesia fic, M/M, Sad Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshiaki/pseuds/Yoshiaki
Summary: Bard doesn’t remember a few things and it's bothering him more than it bothers a broken-hearted Thranduil
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Series: Their kinda love is ageless [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526645
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Confused

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yall!
> 
> So i've decided to start another small fic in a fic (almost like the Wildest Dreams AU typa story) and i hope it goes as well as i imagined in me head.
> 
> Any grammatical errors are apologised for in advance.

“What do you mean, Galion?” Thranduil whispered, unable to process what he was being told because maybe this was just a dream and Bard was just a little dizzy.

“The last thing King Bard remembers is not of you."

“You mean he does not remember me or our children or…what Galion, explain this to me!”

Galion didn’t dare look at his worried king. He had been avoiding him as much as he could about Bard’s condition after the healers were done with his wounds. He had planned to tell his king, but he had to be sure first.

Unfortunately, Thranduil had burst into the room, demanding to know what was going on with Bard. Galion couldn’t stall anymore, so he confessed and that had confused the Elvenking.

Imagine how devastated their children would be.

“He recalls his children, his people, the dwarves and Smaug. But he does not recall the events after that. He does not remember you, my lord. Forgive me,” he said.

Thranduil stopped his pacing and stared at him.

“He does not remember…me?”

Galion nodded slowly, his eyes down.

“But… h-how ca—” he cut himself off, turning away to face his throne. If Bard only remembered taking on Smaug, it meant that he didn’t remember Thranduil. He didn’t remember their relationship and that thought alone made his knees go weak.

“My lord!” Galion cried out, catching his king before he even touched the floor. “Please, sit down. Forgive me for upsetting you.”

Thranduil shook his head disbelievingly and for one bewildered moment, he wondered if the Valar was punishing him, wondered if they were planning on taking his mortal lover away from him. “Is he asleep?” he asked, voice breaking with each word. Galion muttered, “No, my lord, he is awake and with his children. I have asked them not to press for much information, since it might confuse and upset him.”

Thranduil got up and nodded in agreement. “Yes that is wise," he said and Galion watched him leave.

  


Bard was utterly confused when he woke up. There was a distant voice in his head that kept nagging him until he opened his eyes and heard a soft voice gasp his name.

"Da!"

“My children…” he whispered back, tears streaming down the sides of his face as the three children jumped on the bed and hugged him. He held them tightly, inhaling their scents and muttering how much he loved them.

They finally broke the hug and Bard looked to each of them, grinning. His heart was pounding happily in his chest. They were safe, they were right here with him, safe in the Woodland Realm just as Galion and the other elf healer had said.

They had explained to him that he had amnesia but they didn’t dive into much detail about what had happened for him to be like this. He had then fallen back to sleep asking for his children and Galion had promised that they would be here when he woke.

So here they were before him, grinning and crying happily.

“How are you feeling Da?” Sigrid asked sceptically. She had been worried the most but she also hid it well, comforting her younger siblings.

“Feels like something else is missing in my head but I’m quite alright. I still remember you and I remember that Bain stole a bit of sweet bread from the tin before the dragon came,” he answered. Bain whined and they all laughed.

They soon settled down into a calm chatter about what they’ve been doing. They already knew that he hardly remembered much, so they were asked to go slowly with every detail so not to upset him.

Bard wasn’t having much trouble currently and he seemed to be relaxed. The healers expected him to be out of bed after at least three days and he made it clear that he needed to go back to Laketown to be certain that the dragon really was slayed.

So three days later, he was up and out of bed, enjoying the sunshine in the private gardens of the Elvenking. Said being was nowhere to be found whenever Bard asked about him, so he let it go as it was, even though his heart ached over that thought. He would sometimes wonder if the Elvenking was avoiding him on purpose, because he had once encountered him in one of the hallways and the elf had turned around and disappeared into a room. Bard had cocked his head to the side at that, confused as to why his host and saviour—as told to him by the chief healer—was acting strange.

And in the following week of his recovery, it still went on until Bard decided that maybe it would be best to leave the Woodland Realm. He had decided to leave in the morning at the end of the week and his children were there with him, Galion reminding him that he was now the King of Dale and the Northern kingdoms were united.

He hadn’t quite grown into that idea, finding himself feeling nervous the more he thought about it.

He was ready to leave when suddenly the Elvenking made his presence known and all Bard could do was just stare at him, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“I am pleased to see you have recovered Bowman,” the platinum-blonde said, inclining his head a little as a sign of goodwill and respect. Bard did the same. “Thank you, my lord. I am forever in your debt for saving me.” He looked at his guards nervously then back at him.

“Uh—could I have a word with you alone, please?” he requested respectfully. The Elvenking seemed to have a difficult time answering but he eventually nodded and asked his guards to give them a moment in Sindarian. The two guards nodded and stepped away. Thranduil gestured down the hallway. “May I escort you to the gates where your riding company awaits?” he asked.

Bard nodded and they walked slowly.

“What is it you wish to speak of King of Dale?” His tone was stern and icy. He was afraid to relay any emotion to the mortal but on the inside, he was dying a horrible death that he was sure would cause him to fade at the end of the day.

The mortal king beside him cleared his throat and looked forward. “I would like to thank you again for saving my life, as well as your healers for being patient and thorough with me. My children are highly grateful.”

Thranduil inclined his head. “Do not mention it Lord Bard, our kingdoms aide each other.”

Bard suddenly stopped and looked at the elf. “My lord,” he said, “Have I upset you?”

At that, Thranduil stopped and turned to him. He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the mortal’s question. He briefly schooled his features to hold up his true emotions and he answered in an emotionless tone.

“No, Lord Bard. Do you believe that you have upset me in some way?”

He was gambling right now and he knew it, because he knew Bard inside and out and the look on the mortal’s face told him that he was struggling to keep the real answer to himself.

“Yes I believe so.”

Thranduil inwardly sighed. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t stand to be looking at the man he loves with all his heart look at him differently. He couldn’t do it and it must have showed because the mortal stepped forward and whispered, “My lord, are you okay?”

Thranduil took a step back and tried to force his tears back. “Forgive me, King Bard, for I have matters to return to. May the Valar be with you on your travels and your company.” He turned away and walked down the hallway, his guards appearing out of nowhere and following.

Bard could only stare with his mouth slightly open after him. He really didn’t know what to say but what really shocked him was that he had seen a tear run down the elf’s cheek and for some reason it affected his own heart terribly. He placed his hand on his chest to try and calm the pain but it was no use and he found himself going through the motions of being escorted to the gates where Percy, Galion and five other elves along with his children were waiting.

He did not speak about his talk with Thranduil to anyone on the ride back to Dale but it really had upset him that he had upset the great Elvenking to tears.

He wanted to ask Galion about it, but he wasn’t sure how deep his relationship with the elf was, so he kept quiet.

And for days and nights, the look on Thranduil’s face haunted him.

He had arrived in Dale in good spirits and a celebration was thrown for his return. He enjoyed seeing his friends, enjoyed the ale, enjoyed talking to the dwarves and he enjoyed his children’s company.

But when he went to bed, he saw those blue eyes. When he woke up they were his first thought. When he was at the market or talking to a friend or even in a meeting with his council, he thought of Thranduil. He wasn’t sure why, but his heart kept telling him that something more was there, that he needed to do something, but he didn’t know what.

He had asked Sigrid one morning if she had ever spoken to the Elvenking whilst he was injured and she replied with a small yes, keeping her eyes down. Bard had noticed that his children were a little off but he had dismissed that as him being lost, still trying to grapple with the reality that he was here and a king.

“Darlin’ is there something I’m missing?” he asked one afternoon, settling back in his chair as lunch was served to him by her. She tried to smile and reassure him that all was well but Bard had given her a look that was more of a silent plea and she sat down opposite him, calling to her siblings.

The two children came into the room and she had them sit down. “I think we should tell him,” she said, looking at them. Bain reacted first with an uncertain look, but Tilda nodded in agreement, clutching her little doll.

Bard sat up and set his lunch aside. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked curiously.

Sigrid sighed out and spoke. “I believe you’re well enough to know what’s really going on, so please don’t be mad at us, we only wanted you to get better and adjust to all of this.” She looked at him and continued.

“Da,” she said, pulling a silver ring out of her dress pocket. “Thranduil asked us to give you this. It belongs to you and he hoped that maybe it could help bring back an important memory.” She handed it to him and he took it slowly, hesitantly.

He studied it for a moment, trying to remember what it meant. First thing he knew was that it wasn’t his wedding ring his late wife had given him, so he was confused and his mind was hurting the more he tried to figure out what the ring was for.

He suddenly hissed and closed his eyes as a pain shot through his head, thoughts and memories briefly flashing as he held the ring tightly in his hand. He remembers the ring being pushed onto his finger by pale long, beautiful fingers. Then the memory was gone and he blinked back into reality when he heard Tilda’s voice.

“Da, are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and looked to his children as his vision cleared and he found himself coughing as though there was water in his lungs.

“What was that?” he questioned, mostly to himself because he didn’t understand. Sigrid gave him a small smile and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry but that’s all we can offer you Da. Maybe Ada—I mean King Thranduil will explain when you go to the Woodland Realm for your meeting next week.”

Bain nodded and Tilda gave him a hug.

“I hope you remember,” she muttered into his shoulder and they left him with the ring.

He looked down at it and furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what happened and he wasn’t ready to ask the Elvenking, still afraid, still upset. But in the following four days, Bard found himself waking up from yet another vivid dream that had him sweating and hard in his pants. He couldn’t understand why he was dreaming about the Elvenking in such a manner and no matter how hard he stroked himself to release, it just wasn’t the same.

And when the next night it happened again, Bard had enough. His heart refused to calm and he was pissed off about that, grabbing his coat and asking Percy to take care of his children. He explained that something came up and he needed to get to the Woodland Realm before the day of the meeting. Percy had arranged a horse for him and he rode to the forest without a guard after kissing his sleeping children goodbye.

The whole way there, Bard was angry. He looked down at the ring on his finger and hissed. He knew what the ring symbolised and he knew who had given it to him.

But why?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You are appreciated! - Yoshiaki


End file.
